The Soul of John Barton
by highwaytowho
Summary: Hi, this is my first fanfic so there's obviously gonna be some mistakes, but bear through it. This is a story about what would happen if Josephine didn't tear up John's poem and showed it to his mum instead. It's really short, soo yeah. Enjoy?


I held the cold, lifeless piece of paper in my trembling hands, tears silently rolling down my cheeks. As much as I wanted to scream and cry and tell John how selfish he was being and tear up the paper, I knew that I couldn't. Not after yesterday, when he had seemed so happy and alive. But I felt like I needed to do something with it. But what? What could I possibly do with a piece of paper once containing the soul of a now _dead_ man? I cried. And then I cried a little more. I didn't care. John Barton deserved the tears of everyone. Everyone who knew him, and everyone who was never able to know him. John was extraordinary. He could turn people's lives upside down. He could make a person realize how special and important they really are, and the best part about him was that he never asked for anything in return. Nothing.

I sat down on my bed, crying. I cried and cried and cried and cried for hours. I didn't stop. Not because I pitied him, or because I felt sorry for him. I cried because I didn't know what else to do. I didn't know how I felt or what I was going to do next. I cried because I just didn't know. And I cried because I loved him, because I loved the way that he talked and looked and how he stood with courage and how he wanted to be his own person, but he wasn't disrespectful to anyone.

Then I realized what I had to do. I stopped crying for the first time in about ten hours and I got up. I grabbed my boots and slipped on my jacket. It was raining outside, so I grabbed my umbrella. I shoved my phone and some taxi money into my pocket and raced out the door.

As soon as I got out of the taxi, I began to search for the right house. It didn't take me long to guess, him being super rich and all.

I stood in front of a massive grey building one hundred times bigger than my apartment. It was even bigger than Nonna Katia's house!

A huge fence stretched around the house and the perfectly trimmed garden lined with fig trees.

"Yup. This is the one" I mumbled, as I opened the fence.

As I walked to the house, I felt my face. Still hot and blotchy. I wondered if John's Mother would notice at all.

I knocked on the door, and it didn't take long for someone to answer it. I was expecting a butler in a suit to calmly open the door with a tea towel over his wrist and drinks on a tray in his other hand. Turns out I got something a bit different.

Before the door was open, I could hear her shouting "John, oh my lovely John! Is that you? Oh, John my darling! I knew you'd come ho—"

Her voice stopped and disappointment spread across her eyes, while a smile still stood across her face. "Come in dear, oh, do come in!" She gently grabbed my hand and brought me inside. She sat me down in one of their many guest rooms, and she bought me some lemon and honey tea. "Oh, darling! Are you okay? I hope you didn't walk in this weather!"

"No, I took a taxi Mrs Barton. I'm fine thank you," I said politely.

"Well if you need a lift home, I would be happy to drop you off."

"Thank you Mrs Barton."

"Are you here about John?" Her voiced seemed almost shattered.

I cleared my throat. "Yes. I think you need to see this."

I handed her the paper, my face emotionless.

About three seconds after she began to read it, her eyes filled with tears. You could see that she was trying to hold them back. She clasped her hand over her mouth and tried to hide her face, but that's when the emotion took over. She looked angry and devastated and loving and kind and hopeful and doubtful all at the same time, which I didn't even know was possible. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and her face turned red and splotchy. She collapsed in my arms and we cried together. I don't know how long we cried, but by the time we stopped crying, it was nearly dark.

"Thank you." Mrs Barton sniffled. A single tear still remained in her eye as she stood up to go and check the time. "Your mother will want you home soon. Come on, I'll drive you home."

"I don't want to be of any trouble…" I began.

"Don't be ridiculous darling. Anything for you." She managed to smile, despite the fact that her son just died.

"Thank you Mrs Barton." I gently smiled back without hesitation.

She passed me my coat and I slipped it on and grabbed my umbrella. We walked towards the garage, (obviously way larger than your average garage) and I admired the house for a few moments while Mrs Barton entered the security code.

"It's a lovely house you've got here." I said, trying to change the subject.

"Thank you. Yes, I quite agree." The door flung open to about ten cars in what seemed like a car park. "Here, we'll just take the Ferrari." My jaw dropped.

"A _Ferrari_?!" I shrieked.

"Yes, a Ferrari." Chuckled Mrs Barton.

She unlocked the car and we hopped in.

_This is the first and probably last time I will ever ride in a Ferrari_, I thought.

I waved as I jumped out of the car.

"Thank you Mrs Barton," I smiled and waved.

"No, thank _you_, Josie. You did the right thing by showing me that. Thank you so, so much."

We smiled at each other and I waved as she drove away.

Just as she left, Mama came racing out.

"Did I just hear a _Ferrari_?!" She shrieked, just like I had.

"Mrs Barton dropped me home." I said.

"What were you doing at Mrs Barton's house on a Friday?" Mama asked me.

"I just needed to do something." I smiled at her and walked inside, hoping I wouldn't break down in tears halfway up the stairs to our apartment. But I never did. Somehow that trip to the Barton's house made me feel a whole lot better. I was still sad, but Mrs Barton understood and she never said a word against John.

He's in a better place now. A place where he is emancipated.

_**I'll run one day. Run for my life. To be free and think for myself. Not as an Australian and not as an Italian and not as an in between. I'll run to be emancipated.**_


End file.
